Holiday Spirit
by Cobrilee
Summary: Stiles leaves mistletoe all over the loft. Derek finds most of it. Part 1 of A Very Sterek Christmas. Part 1 of A Story In Texts.


**A/N: I just had a bunch of fluffy little ficlet ideas, some of which were Christmas-oriented, so I decided to turn them all into Christmas ficlets and do a Sterek-style Twelve Days of Christmas. I'm crossing my fingers I can actually get all twelve written in time to be able to do one a day from now through Christmas. I have five written, so here's hoping!**

Derek growled irritably when he spied another sprig of mistletoe tucked into the edge of one of his kitchen cupboards, yanking it out and crushing it in his fist. This was getting ridiculous. He'd discovered a stupid amount of the plant scattered all around the loft, and though he'd managed to clear out the stuff in the obvious locations, he was now finding it in random, obscure places. He pulled out his phone, scowling as he stabbed out an impatient text.

 _Stiles, you pain in the ass. Tell me where the rest of this fucking mistletoe is._

 _Nope. You're killing the fun in Christmas, and I won't be a party to it._

Derek rolled his eyes impatiently. _Why would you put mistletoe in a damn coat closet? Who's actually going to end up underneath the rod?_

 _Oh my God, Derek, you're making this too easy._

 _What are you talking about, you idiot?_

 _*sigh* Rods? Mistletoe? Kissing underneath both?_

Derek blinked in awareness, feeling an unexpected heat coil in the pit of his belly. He glared at his phone as if the annoying messages were its own design, meant to torture Derek to death. _Just because you dream about sucking dick doesn't mean the rest of us do._

 _Shame._

He flushed, tossing the phone at the counter and wincing when it clattered across the tile. Fortunately he hadn't put much force into the motion and it remained in one piece. Scowling again, he set off to scour every damn inch of the loft, if he had to. He was going to root out every last twig of the plant if it took him the rest of the day.

lllll

"I have to say I'm impressed," Stiles said as he dropped gracelessly onto Derek's couch, limbs sprawling over every inch of surface he could reach. "I didn't know you could put out a spread like that."

Derek shot him a Look that clearly said, "Why are you still here?" but he didn't voice the impatient words. He'd honestly expected Stiles to troop out after Scott, Lydia, and the rest of the gang. Dinner and dessert had long been over and he was ready to settle in with a book or a DVR'ed Mets game now that everyone else had left, but Stiles was apparently camping out for the evening.

If the silence bothered the teen, it wasn't evident. He toed off his sneakers, letting them fall to the floor with a thump. Derek watched as one tipped over and ended up under the edge of the coffee table, raising his eyes back up to Stiles' when it became apparent he wasn't going anywhere. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice clipped. Stiles shrugged.

"I figured we'd watch a movie or something," he replied easily, and Derek's eyebrows arched incredulously.

" _Why_ would you figure that?"

Another shrug, though this one was a bit jerky, and the scent of nerves spiked sharply in the air that still smelled richly of turkey, ham, and cranberries. "Because you didn't get rid of _all_ the mistletoe?"

Derek immediately lifted his eyes to analyze any potential remaining hiding places, and it took a good five seconds before the insinuation wrapped itself around his brain. Shocked, his gaze landed back on the teen who was trying not to appear as anxious as his pheromones pronounced him to be. "You thought I was encouraging you by leaving some of the mistletoe?" he croaked, and Stiles blushed a deep red.

"Aaaaand I'm an idiot," he mumbled, bending down to grab at his sneakers and stuff his feet hastily back into them, but Derek stopped him.

"Where is it?"

Mutely, Stiles pointed a finger up, and Derek craned his neck to look in the direction he was pointing. In the rafters high above them, he spied a noticeably large sprig of the parasitic plant and his jaw dropped. "Jesus, Stiles! How the _hell_ did you get mistletoe up there?" Stiles opened his mouth as if he was actually going to explain, but Derek shook his head abruptly. "Never mind." He sank back into the chair, his brain racing while he tried to come up with words.

In the silence, Stiles' anxiety ratcheted up noticeably, both visibly and scent-wise. "I'm sorry," he muttered, cheeks still tinged a bright pink, and he pulled himself to his feet. "I'll just…"

"Don't." The word stunned both of them, and Stiles paused hopefully. Derek worked his mouth for a moment before observing quietly, "It's right above us."

He nodded sheepishly. "I figured this was the most likely place for us to end up."

Derek studied him for a moment before lifting himself out of the chair, taking the two steps over to Stiles, and halting. They stood mere inches apart and the scent of desire flooded through the room. Derek inhaled sharply; his head was swimming, and he swore he felt almost… _drunk_ on Stiles' pheromones.

"God, Derek, whatever you're going to do, just do it, okay?" he demanded suddenly, eyes flickering warily. "If you're going to smack me upside the head, or smash it into something, or chew my ass out, whatever, just do it, the tension is killing me-"

Derek's hand slid into Stiles' hair, effectively halting the rambling and making his eyes go round as an owl's. Smiling predatorily, Derek eased his face down and took possession of the lips that had been moving rapid-fire just moments ago. A rush of lust punched him in the stomach and he almost gasped into Stiles' mouth, unprepared as he was for the intensity of what he was feeling.

They clung to each other, lips moving eagerly over the other's mouth, tracking down the column of pale throat, brushing against stubble that rubbed deliciously raw. Little whimpering noises emanated from low in Stiles' chest and Derek could feel himself responding in kind, his wolf demanding to _dominate_ and _conquer_ , wanttakehave _now_ , and he pulled back with a heaving, shuddery breath, eyes wide and nearly wild as he stared at Stiles in shock.

Stiles' eyes were bright and slightly unfocused, and he licked his lips gently, wincing at the sting on his already-abraded-to-the-point-of-pleasured-pain skin. "So. Um. Wow? What was that?"

Derek stepped back, attempting to get his erratic heartbeat under control. As it slowed, keeping pace with the slowing of Stiles' own until it was once again a steady, rhythmic thump, he mustered up a smirk. "Maybe I was just choosing not to kill the fun in Christmas anymore."

Stiles beamed as he closed the gap between him and Derek, long fingers wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling him down for another kiss. "That's the holiday spirit I was looking for," he murmured, just before their lips met for the first of what would be many, many more.


End file.
